Nightmares
by panicattackkisses
Summary: 'Nightmare' He prompted, his voice soft and still filled with sleep. She simply nodded with defeat, not knowing what words to say any more. Stiles is always there when Lydia needs him most.


Stiles stirred in his sleep, his eyes flickering as his dreams faded into the reality of a dark living room. He shifted and stretched, his back aching in protest as he found himself on Scott's couch. He looked around, struggling to gather his bearings with only the dull glow of the TV screen to see.

The movie credits rolled in the background as he rolled off of the couch with an ungraceful thump and into a leftover pizza box. Isaac grunted from the floor at the noise, grasping for the blanket he had stolen from Stiles earlier.

Pack movie night was Scott's idea of uniting the group and keeping things light-hearted through the difficult times; however, choosing pizza toppings and arguing over whose turn it was to have the itchy blanket left Stiles wishing there were more paranormal problems to fight over. (Allison hated pineapple on her pizza and she was viciously vocal about it.)

The girl herself was currently curled around Scott, both of them huddled on an armchair in the corner of the room, a sight that made Stiles smile. Normality and happiness was something he hoped his best friend could still have.

Derek was propped against their chair on the floor, happily wrapped in the comfiest duvet after an intense game of 'rock, paper, scissor' ended with him sitting on Stiles with his fangs out and Lydia yelling at them for knocking over her soda.

Lydia.

The one person who was missing from their little slumber party; her usual spot at the bottom of the couch that Stiles had just vacated was also empty. Her pillow left behind and not a single strawberry blonde curl could be seen from the mountain of blankets.

Quietly, as to not wake his sleeping friends, Stiles navigated his way over snoring werewolves and DVD cases, missing pizza crusts and stray popcorn kernels. His bare feet padded softly over the carpet as he headed towards the bathroom, looking for Lydia on the way.

Reaching the end of the hall, he squinted at the too bright light that came from the bathroom door that was left slightly ajar.

Cautious not to startle the girl, he whispered softly as he let knuckles tap the door. It swayed open at his touch, revealing Lydia – sitting on the cold tiles, her knees drawn into her body and her forehead leaning against them as if the whole weight of the world was crushing her tiny frame.

With a saddened sniff, she looked up at him, her large eyes holding fear, tiredness and a little embarrassment.

Stiles knew why, of course. Stiles always knew why, he knew everything Lydia felt without her having to part her lips and say the words.

''Nightmare?'' He prompted, his voice soft and still filled with sleep.

She simply nodded with defeat, not knowing what words to say anymore. She had said them all before. She had tried denial, she had tried to act as if it didn't affect her. She tried to laugh it off. Her attempt at not caring didn't work either.

Lydia had tried every excuse in the book, she had said all the words she could to try and make it better; and she had said them all to the boy standing in front of her.

Luckily, the boy standing in front of her didn't need to say any words back. He knelt down in front her on the uncomfortable floor, his brow creased in sadness. He hated to see her so weak and tired – it wasn't Lydia.

He held her hand, a simple, sweet and innocent gesture that filled her heart with so much love each and every time he did it. He held it so gently, like she was made of glass; intertwining her delicate little hand with his own strong one. She loved the way they were rough against her own skin, how they were so large they covered her own, protecting her completely.

Lydia had discovered a while ago now, that that – protecting her – was Stiles Stilinski's job. It didn't surprise her. Nor did the fact that she quickly realised that she didn't mind it at all.

So it was without any hesitation when she eventually let him pull her to her feet, marvelling over how tall he was compared to her and how broad his chest and shoulders had become. Lydia let him lead her back to their couch in Scott's living room.

He lay down in his usual spot, gathering the blankets from Isaac's feet.

Again, without any hesitation, Lydia let Stiles tug her down beside him - almost on top of him – and she allowed sleep to finally overcome her. They both felt safe again.


End file.
